I recommend that you read the whole thing.

‘These camps, these collections of tarps and tents, are more than you see. They are the sweat and treasure of hundreds, sometimes thousands of people trying to learn how to take care of each other. The fucked-up kids, street kids and old homeless are as important as the community organizers and grad students.

They’ve all come to this place and tried to build a way to talk to and take care of each other, after giving up on a system they believe has failed them. This is what they’ve poured their hearts and their best thinking into. It may not be legal. It may, in your opinion and many others, not even be a good idea. But they’ve built a village. There are libraries and kitchens, places for women, places to provide shelter and clothing. There are even little temples here.

People have sanctified this space with their hope. It is imprinted with their lost nights, their spare money, their effort and their bodies. The places you see covered in plastic sheets and bric-a-brac are thick with memories: the echos of unguarded conversations, of commitments made, of love and struggle and compromise.

When you go in and wipe this place clean, and you will, what I ask is that you do it solemnly.’